I have been busy all day long, but I don't know for whom and why. Time flies by, and you and I are drifting away and there are no books.
We are in different worlds, confused but full of dreams, reality but all illusion. We have tried hard to catch the tail of youth and used our last strength to leave no regrets. But what cannot be saved is that the hourglass in my heart disperses with the wind, and your back disappears into the horizon.
When we were young, we once said that when we drink wine and sing, we have dreams as horses, and we can live anywhere in the world. Times have changed, and the sea has changed. You and I each live in a strange small town, have a family, a small business, firewood, rice, oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar and tea, rushing among the sea of people in the morning and evening. There are no more happy smiles, no more beautiful singing voices, no more wanton drinks, no more fearless youth.
We spend our days in a daze, tired to support our families, put on masks that go against our hearts, and say words that we don't mean. Only in the quiet night of the early morning, on the rooftop, with the cold wind blowing and the cigarettes burned out, can we secretly uncover the stories buried deep in our hearts and think of the ignorance, fearlessness and impulsiveness of our youth, as if those beautiful faces were floating gently in the dark air. I saw you, and tears fell gently from the corners of my eyes.